56
Kora
Ineed you to tell me about the runes in this book.
” Kora dropped the flag-wrapped book on the white bar with a grimace.
She’d barely touched it, scared of unleashing the dark magic that’d consumed her last time.
Thank gods the sail seemed to protect her from whatever was within it.
Aerion paused, his navy shirt unbuttoned, his hair ruffled.
He’d left his boots beside Aryn, who sat up from the circular deep-set lounge in the centre of the room.
Aerion sniffed once, then twice. “What is that?”
Sat atop a bar stool, Aerion poured himself another glass of grog, swirling the dark liquid around in his crystal glass.
Skybell Castle was regal enough to be fitted with its own bar, west of the library.
A cosy space, with no windows, and intricate wainscoted oak walls.
Every piece of furniture was white, lined with dark blue satin, and in the centre was an indoor firepit; a ring of white cushioned sofas embedded into the stone floor.
“My diary,” Kora replied. “From ten years ago.”
Aryn shot from the firepit, his hazel eyes flashing in the golden candlelight hanging from the high ceiling. Raiden simmered by the bar, leaning casually with heightened interest as he helped himself to a draught of ale. Who knew a prince-turned-barman was so . . . hot.
“Very interesting, K. But I don’t want to read fantasies about Rai.” Aerion sipped his drink. Kora blushed instantly, pressing her cool fingers to her cheeks.
“She was more into war than me, back then,” Raiden murmured quietly, but Kora glanced at him curiously as he shrugged, tipping back his stein. He drank it so smoothly, and Kora painfully tore her gaze away, wondering how Samuel fared under Barron’s oppression. She hoped he still lived.
“Just look at it, please.” Kora shakily unfolded the navy flag, her fingers gliding over the embroidered trident and skulls, careful not to touch the leather covering of the book itself.
“Wait!” Aryn grabbed her wrist. The bond flared and Kora jerked, his power igniting her skin with such a searing spark that she hissed, wrenching her hand away. It shocked her, the new intensity of it, and Aerion bristled, his jaw clenching.
Now she understood how it could force a . . . mating bond. She’d only experienced something similar when she’d been stupidly in love with Blake. Raiden rounded the counter, his diamond shield beating with a promise of violence.
“Don’t touch that.” Aryn carefully continued unwrapping the flag, his deft fingers light and quick. As the flag fell away, Raiden frowned, collecting it from the cool floor. Aryn probed the corner of the ledger, as though it would bite him with one touch, and instantly hissed, backing away.
“My love, what’s wrong?” Aerion leaned away, as if the book might explode any second.
“It’s cursed,” Aryn waved his hand, rubbing his palm. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“A curse? Like an enchantment?” Kora stepped back too. “When I touched it, Kordelia manifested in front of me. It’s how she took control of my body again.”
“Your blood must be in the ink,” Aerion mused, peering closer. He picked up a steel stirrer from the bar and flipped the book open, the pages falling to the drawing of the crevasse, runes spilling from its darkness. “Oh, gods.”
“What is it?” Kora retreated until Raiden’s solid wall of muscle stopped her. He didn’t move, but his heart pounded into her shoulders. Hard, and fast.
“This is dark, and old. I’ve never seen these runes before, but they’re similar to what I’ve read about dark magic.
Whatever you’d been up to before the Mist, it wasn’t good.
” Aerion spun on the barstool, facing Kora.
“This drawing is of a rip in the realm. It’s depicting darkness entering our world and devouring it.
I don’t know what these runes mean, but that’s the best I can garner. ”
Kora swallowed. Hard.
“Shit.”
“Care to fill us in?” Aerion’s head cocked, his wise eyes scrutinising.
Well, it was now or never. Kora recited Barron’s prophecy to them, along with Agatha’s additional layer of vague confusion about the Dark One and a consuming darkness. Raiden’s entire body stiffened, and he stepped away, studying the flag in his large hands.
“Another reason it’s best to be here,” Raiden spoke hoarsely. “Only the archive will have books that cover that kind of prophecy.” His stare whipped to Aerion’s and his eyes widened, his fingers shakily grabbing the crystal glass.
“Stop having a mental conversation,” Kora quipped.
“Haizea’s rift,” Raiden answered quickly. “If Barron is targeting rifts, the Aurora Gap is the last one left.”
“He’s going to attack,” Aryn sank down by the firepit. “History is repeating itself.”
“And we’ve left Skylar,” Aerion whispered. “Father has left home, too. Mistros is vulnerable.”
Raiden shook his head. “Leto and Cassidy are out there still. They can warn us. We have time. We can make it back in time.” Raiden’s repetition did nothing to ease the rising anxiety in the room. “We don’t know where Barron will strike first, it could be here.”
“Or he could try to brave the Lifeless Waters,” Kora supplied.
No one ever sailed into the Lifeless Waters. Anything beyond the islands and continent was a one-way ticket to death. There was just nothing. No land, no life. Rumours had spread in the past that even the air above those waters could kill, worse than the Sulfire Sea.
Raiden grimaced. “He’d invade from the Infernal Highland if he did. First, we need to unpick these prophecies, find anything on dark magic. We can’t go after Barron blind.”
“You don’t think that’s the real reason why Father has fucked off to the other side of the mountains?” Aerion raised a brow.
Raiden cursed, his crystal eyes freezing, glazing over. “If he has, I’m killing him myself for lying to us.”
“Let’s hope we find something,” Aerion answered. “I fear there may be more darkness on the horizon than we anticipated.”